


The Photograph

by MSRorBust



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s11e05 Ghouli, Fluff and Angst, The Unremarkable House (X-Files)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSRorBust/pseuds/MSRorBust
Summary: Takes place during the events of Ghouli.  Mulder gets his own copy of baby William's photograph.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	The Photograph

Mulder woke up on the couch, his back already a little stiff from the few hours of sleep he managed. He could hardly believe that he used to sleep on his couch by choice at his old place, and he struggled to remember the last time he had slept downstairs here. That is, the last time he slept downstairs alone, anyways. 

Probably after some now unimportant fight with Scully back when she was still home, he figured. Of course, she almost always came to get him and ask him to come back to bed after about five minutes. He knew she didn’t do it out of guilt, but because she found it easier to sleep curled up in his warm arms than in an empty, cool bed. That didn’t bother him, since he was the same way.

He wondered how she had learned to fall asleep alone after they split – how long it had taken her to sleep through the night again. He wasn’t sure he ever got there. No night was as sound as the ones with her head on the other pillow had been.

Things were almost back to where they had once been, but he knew they weren’t quite there yet. After Scully had told him about her dreams since starting the Jackson case, he had offered for her to come stay at his place if she wanted. Although in his mind, it would always be hers, too. 

Afraid that the idea of sharing a bed might keep her from accepting, even in light of their time in Virginia, he had made the offer with the condition that he would sleep on the couch. Initially, Scully had said no, telling him her usual, “I’m fine,” while her eyes screamed that she wasn’t. As expected though, tonight she had shown up at his door anyway. He had let her in without any questions, they’d scrounged up some leftovers from his fridge, and then she had gone to bed early. She hadn’t told him to stay downstairs. In fact, when Mulder had given her a goodnight kiss on the cheek, she’d briefly lingered on the bottom stair as if to say something, before deciding otherwise and slowly withdrawing to his room. 

The thought of what she was going to say had made falling asleep difficult. So, when Mulder’s eyes shifted to the clock below the T.V. and saw he’d only been asleep for three hours, he was too annoyed to try sleeping again. 

As Mulder shifted upright, Dagoo stirred by his feet, his slightly open eyes giving Mulder a displeased glare. Mulder smirked at the fact that he had stayed downstairs with him, knowing that it would make Scully jealous.

“Sorry, Sparky, but you have left your five-star accommodations. Unannounced three a.m. wake-up calls are daily operating procedure around here.” Mulder spiked up Dagoo’s hair into a point on his head. “We’ll tell her we’ve been clubbing,” he joked. Already back asleep, Dagoo’s mouth twitched as he rolled his head over on the couch.

Mulder threw his hands up in protest. “No respect for an artist’s work.” He laughed to himself knowing that Scully would have instantly smoothed it down with a sigh as soon as she saw it anyway. 

He sat for a moment on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to do with himself. He could run to the store to get supplies for breakfast, assuming one was open. That way he wouldn’t have to endure Scully’s judging gaze as she searched his empty fridge in the morning. But he didn’t want to risk the car waking her. That mean the T.V. was out, too. 

As he sat pondering, a sudden draft sent chills up his bare arms. Mulder bent over and picked up his sweatshirt from the nearby armchair, throwing it on. Scully had left it there for quick access during movie nights.

“Sorry to disturb you, your excellency, but if I can’t be there for her, you’ll have to do the trick.” Mulder reached down and scooped up a still sleeping Dagoo along with the blanket from the couch. He tiptoed his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. Scully had left the door ajar. 

Maybe she had wanted him there with her after all, he thought. He was almost certain that if he lied down next to her now, she would only pull him closer. 

Nonetheless, Mulder soundlessly walked next to the bed, reached over Scully, and gently placed Dagoo next to her. Neither of them stirred. Even with everything going on, she still looked as peaceful as ever sleeping there. Sleeping where she belonged, he thought. He stood for a moment taking in what he considered the perfect image.

Deciding he had better head back downstairs before it was impossible not to crawl in bed with her, Mulder pulled the slipping comforter back onto Scully, softly brushing his thumbs against her shoulders as he did so. When he bent down to give her a kiss, he noticed something new on the nightstand. Curious, he walked over and picked up an old photograph. Without having to look at it in the light, Mulder instantly knew it was of William. It was the same photo he had briefly borrowed last year when thoughts of their son were at an unspoken high. If Scully had known he'd taken it, she'd never said anything.

He had caught Scully looking at it countless times after coming back to her all those years ago. It was the one of William in the white, blue, and green footie pajamas Mulder had never even seen in person, let alone put on him. Every time he caught her looking at it, she would shove it in her pocket as if it were nothing and dive back into whatever conversation they had last finished with an amazing evenness and strength. And just like that, they had reached an agreement never to speak of what had hurt both of them the most.

As time went on, she reached for the picture less often. Or at least less often when Mulder was around. That is, until he had seen her with it after the start of these dreams. Scully had barely even tried to hide it from him this time. She had returned it to her pocket as usual, but she had not tried to force a conversation. She’d only given him a sad look and a small smile before going about her business.

Mulder stood there lovingly stroking the front of the photo. He could feel where it had worn from where Scully had held it countless times before. Then he felt his finger catch at the bottom. He held the photograph closer to the moonlit window and saw that there were actually two photographs there. Mulder peeled the second photograph unstuck from the first. Without thinking, he murmured,” Hmm” as he saw that it was a duplicate.

He looked down to see if he woke her, and was surprised to see that Scully had already inched herself up against the headboard. Evidently she had been awake for a bit and had been watching him. She wore that same sad expression and small smile upon her face. Mulder looked back to the photographs, unable to bear it. They stood and sat there in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“You know, Mulder, I made you a copy right after I took that photo. And then when – when you came back, well I – I just never knew how to give it to you. It never seemed like the right time,” Scully said, barely above a whisper.

Mulder reached out for her hand, able to find it without seeing. He stroked it reassuringly. Much the same way his fingers had traced the photograph.

“I don’t think there’s ever a right time for something like this, Scully,” he paused, “I wanted to ask you for a copy once, but thought it would be too painful. Too painful to ask, maybe too painful to have.”

Mulder went to put both photos back on the nightstand after a beat. Scully moved her free hand, the one that had been absentmindedly petting Dagoo, to stop him. 

“All the same, Mulder, I think you should have it now.” Scully separated the pictures of their son and put the worn one back on her bedside table. She picked up a snow globe of a windmill, something Mulder hadn’t even registered, and placed it on top. He noticed that it was broken. 

Scully then placed the less-worn photo into Mulder’s palm, pressing her hand against it as she grasped his hand. Mulder forced himself to look at her. Tears were in both of their eyes. He didn’t want to escape her touch. 

As if reading his mind, Scully lovingly squeezed his hand. “Mulder, I’ll never get back to sleep with you downstairs now. Why don’t you join us?” 

He nodded in answer and gingerly crawled over her and Dagoo and onto his half of the bed. Scully turned onto her side so that she was facing him.

“Mulder!” she said through a sigh, “hair stylist is not on your resume for a reason.” She immediately smoothed down Dagoo’s fur, kissing the top of his head when she finished. 

“Au contraire, Scully. I’ve seen you admiring this masterpiece for many years,” he smirked, pointing to his own head.

“Yes, I think the floof of ’94 will go down in history. But for reasons different than you imagine,” Scully retorted.

They both laughed briefly and then settled into silence, one now more familiar than uncomfortable. Mulder could hear the heavy thoughts rattling in Scully’s mind as much as he could hear his own. After a few minutes, Scully sleepily mumbled, “G’night, Mulder,” and shifted back onto her other side again.

Before long, he could sense that she had fallen asleep. Mulder listened to her slow and rhythmic breathing, the bed slightly rising and falling with each one. The comforting feeling tempted him to fall asleep himself. Breaking the trance, Mulder moved the photo that was still in his hand and held it up to his face.

Dagoo leaned over and licked his hand. 

“Yeah, Sparky. That’s William. That’s our son.”

Although memorized long ago, Mulder studied the photo for a little longer before putting it into his pocket. A bittersweet smile grew on his lips as he turned to watch Scully sleep. Before even Dagoo could settle down, Mulder fell into a dreamless slumber and slept sounder than he had since the night Scully had last used the pillow next to him. 


End file.
